February 6, 2012


I was an overachiever in school. I never had to work for my grades. I could ignore most of what the teacher said, spend less than thirty minutes studying, and still ace a test. Even in college - I have memories of writing ten-page papers the night before they were due and getting easy A's.  

I never learned how to work hard. To be patient. That not everything in life was going to be that easy.

But this writing thing? Getting published? It's kind of hard.

The thing is, much of the publishing industry is SO accessible these days.  Agents and editors fill Twitter and Facebook with advice and tips. They promote their clients.  They are real people out there.  Many of them seem cool, like people I'd hang out with in the real world. But this is the Twitter World.

And it can be easy, when you've been following these agents for a while, to forget that you don't actually know them, and what's more - they don't know you at ALL.  They have absolutely no reason to distinguish me from the thousands of other writers playing this "trying to get published" game.  

I'm like a kid at a dance.  I have no date, no real hope of dancing, but I can see the cool kids out on the dance floor.  And they're laughing. They're partying. They're sharing drinks and stories and living it up in the way that only the cool kids can.

Because those cool kids? They've already made it.  They've paid their dues.

I haven't.  So I can watch and listen and learn their dance steps, but until one of them notices me and asks me to dance, I'm stuck.  A wallflower. 

And that's where I'm struggling, because I'm part of the generation that was raised to think I'm special. That the cool kids should see me by now.

But they won't. Not, at least, until I do something spectacular.  

Or else, maybe there's someone out there on the dance floor who likes the nerdy wallflower girls.  Who likes how I move or what I'm wearing, and I just need to find that one special person, or for them to find me.

I can wait a while longer at this dance. I can be patient.  I'm the little wallflower who could, and I think I can...I think I can...I think? 

I can.

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